I Shipped Him—Then He Loved Me / Chapter 1: Fangirl to Flamebait
I Shipped Him—Then He Loved Me

I Shipped Him—Then He Loved Me

Author: Valerie Clark


Chapter 1: Fangirl to Flamebait

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I’m basically invisible in Hollywood.

Seriously, when I say bottom-tier, I mean I’m the kind of background extra who doesn’t even get a line, the person left off press releases, whose only red carpet is the faded one at the local AMC multiplex. And every time someone says, “I think I’ve seen you before... somewhere?” I half-expect them to ask if I work at Starbucks.

When I first got my break, I once accidentally posted from Carter Reed’s fan account instead of my own. Next thing I knew, I was scrolling through a thousand tweets—memes, live-tweets, full-on thirst threads—all about Carter. Folks in the business started calling me Carter Reed’s ultimate fangirl, like I was running some kind of Carter stan account.

The mortification was real. Kill me now. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing—friends, even my mom, blowing up my DMs with screenshots and way too many crying-laughing emojis. For a while, I was basically the punchline at every party for weeks. But hey, could be worse. At least I wasn’t known as the girl who tripped over the sound cables on live TV.

Because of my fangirl rep, I scored a role in a TV drama, playing Carter’s first love. Sure, my part was tiny and doomed, but my character’s tragic backstory made her the show’s resident tragic heartbreaker—the unattainable first love everyone roots for. Suddenly, I had a whole fandom of shippers writing fanfics about doomed love.

It was wild. My inbox blew up with fanart, and people started tagging me in edits where my character was the ultimate heartbreaker. I’d never been trending for anything before. Not unless you count the time my dog photobombed a weather report.

After the show aired, I actually got a little popular. But every day, Carter’s hardcore fans would swarm my socials, cursing me out, calling me a leech who couldn’t make it on her own, a shameless clout-chaser who just wouldn’t leave him alone. Whatever. If you keep hustling, sometimes you actually win.

Sometimes, reading the comments, I’d laugh so hard I’d snort coffee out my nose. Other times, I’d call my best friend and vent, “If being called a leech is the price of rent, at least I’m living rent-free in their heads.”

Pretty soon, the boss of Indiana’s own Midwest SmileBright toothpaste brand noticed my good looks (and my big, bright white teeth) and invited me and Carter to do a livestream. Honestly, Carter could’ve turned it down or picked a bigger-name actress for the official ship, but he was stubborn and insisted on having me.

Tracy, my agent, nearly fainted from excitement. “Marissa, if you blow this, I’ll make you floss on TikTok for a month!” I shuddered. She wasn’t kidding.

The day of the broadcast, I showed up early, greeted the crew, and tried to play it cool. Not long after, Carter walked in. That’s just how he is—famous for being kind and professional. Ten years in the business, and the guy’s barely had a single scandal.

The room felt electric the moment he walked in. The camera crew straightened up. The makeup artist started fussing with her own hair. I tried to look busy with my phone, but my hands were shaking just a little. Oh God, please don’t let me drop it.

"Hello, Mr. Reed!" I managed, forcing a smile.

He grinned, that easy, movie-star smile, and strolled over. With a magician’s flourish, Carter pulled out a paper rose and placed it in my palm. “Don’t call me Mr. Reed. That makes me sound like your high school math teacher or something.”

I blinked, thrown off by the paper rose and his playful tone. What was this, a romcom? Was he teasing me about my baby face, or just that smooth? The crew tried not to laugh. I swear, the air felt warmer all of a sudden.

Wait, was that a compliment or a dig? Was he saying my baby face made him look old?

My cheeks went red. I tried to play it cool, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “If not Mr. Reed, then Carter?” I asked, testing the waters, my voice just a little shaky.

He frowned, like that wasn’t quite right. “Just call me CJ. I like it when you call me CJ.”

He said it so casually, like we were old friends or something. As he spoke, he reached out and plucked a petal from my hair. A wave of men’s cologne hit me—clean, expensive, unfair. Carter is tall—when I looked up, all I could see was his chiseled jawline. Wow.

His touch was light, but the gesture sent goosebumps down my arms. God, get a grip, Marissa. For a second, it felt like it was just us in the room, everything else fading to a gentle hum.

Not far away, I heard staff whispering:

“Wow! Carter Reed is so flirty!”

“I wish I could swap places with Marissa!”

“He let Marissa call him CJ! If that’s not love, what is?”

Their voices carried just enough to make my ears burn. The makeup artist was practically swooning.

Above me, I thought I heard Carter’s faint laughter. I instantly caught on and leaned into his chest to listen to his heartbeat. Thump thump thump. Thump thump... thump.

Did it just skip a beat?

I looked up at him, total admiration in my eyes. Seriously, respect. The guy’s an Oscar winner for a reason. Not only can he blend into any situation and fool everyone, he can even keep up the act and fool me, the person right next to him.

I almost wanted to give him a standing ovation right there. If acting were an Olympic sport, he’d be Michael Phelps.

“Wow, you two aren’t even live yet and you’re already hugging? Are you going to start making out in front of the audience later?”

“Shut up,” Carter shot back, looking up and kicking his agent.

The agent yelped, but everyone just laughed it off. Someone from sound called out, “Save some for the cameras, you two!”

Once the livestream started, the host glanced at her cue cards. Carter sat on a little couch, peeling an orange. His hands looked even better against the orange—like something out of a Renaissance painting. The juice glistened between his fingers, slow and hypnotic.

The camera zoomed in, and I swear even the host lost her place for a second. A hush fell over the set as everyone watched Carter’s hands move, slow and deliberate, almost mesmerizing. I had to bite my lip to keep from staring.

The live comments went wild:

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